


You and whose army?

by optionofpeace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Harry is not a crybaby, No Slash, Torture, Violence, idk trying this out, post-OotP, the situation is bad though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optionofpeace/pseuds/optionofpeace
Summary: Surprisingly, Harry is in a bad situation. He has become a prisoner held by not very nice people, and he has to find strength within himself to survive. Ghosts of past and future may come to visit, and time is running short, yet the Chosen One struggles on, because the whole world depends on him after all. But you can do only so much without a wand and Ron and Hermione being by your side.





	1. War

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, a few tiny disclaimers.  
> First, I quite dislike graphic Dursley abuse stories, so that's why I'm coming into this fandom with one. Don't know where this came from, but here it is.  
> Second, there will be no slash.  
> Third, I do not know anything about British English, so forgive me please of the Americanisms.  
> Comments are hugely appreciated! And thanks for you clicking on this, I hope not to disappoint you.  
> Cheers!

  
When Harry woke up, he thought he had gone blind. His heart picking up the pace, he blinked a couple of times before trying to look around and find at least some sign that his eyesight has not suddenly and with no foreknown reason left Harry, and for a couple of long moments really nothing could be seen. Harry even considered being a victim of some really odd jinx, a spell that either made the unfortunate target go, hopefully, temporarily blind, or one which turned the world as dark as a black hole, all light sucked out of every fiber, all life lost somewhere unpleasant, or to someone who obsessively, desperately had made one’s means of existence to devour everything the one could not be or become, making everything become him and him become everything.  
  
Before Harry could process what might actually be going on besides some weird low-key panic-ridden crazy town scenario, he did notice that he is cold, and the floor was emanating very unpleasant sensations. As Harry slowly and carefully, moving only couple of inches, tried to get to know his surroundings, he could feel couple of wet patches and bumps under his palms, and he really, really hoped it wasn’t anything too disgusting. The unknown, small objects squished under his weight and after Harry had lifted his hand, they were no longer bumps, but just a wet, slippery substance. Harry could not tell whether they left any stains on him, but the good thing was that they did not stink, and that needed to be fine enough for now.  
  
The other thing he noticed was that there were no sounds, his own breath being the loudest thing he could hear. Harry focused his ears automatically and stilled his breathing in order to maybe hear something, maybe in the distance, but it was no success, and Harry frowned. He decided to heat things up a bit and finally start investigating what on Earth was going on.  
  
As he had adjusted slightly his position, his eyes finally caught something. To the right of the teenager was a small, pale light, compressed in the form of rectangle, and it was suspended in the air, making Harry blink couple of more times before his brain calculated that the light he is certainly seeing could be weakly shining through a small window. The boy decided to inspect that more, his confusion about the whole situation growing, the cogs in his brain turning and adrenaline pumping. He pushed himself up, gladly noticing his body did not hurt that much, he sure felt stiff, but that was most probably because of the uncomfortable sleeping conditions he had just experienced. So Harry stood and stumbled, spreading arms to his sides in a weird T pose, like he expected the walls to be near, but his hands couldn’t feel anything. He automatically patted his pockets, and felt huge wave of disappointment when his wand wasn’t there. Feeling even more blue, Harry took a slow, but determined step towards the weird light.  
  
The light grew bigger at the level just above his head as he came closer to it. Harry’s hands, now being in front of him, awkwardly grasping the cold air, harshly bumped against something damp and even more cold. It was made out of wood, and with further inspection Harry concluded that he was facing a door. A huge, solid wooden door with a window. And all Harry had to do is to stand on his toes, stretch and peek through that window to see what was happening on the other side of the door. Harry’s fingers found a door knob, and he wasn’t surprised that the doors turned out to be locked. So, Harry thought, this is a cell. And he was a prisoner?  
  
The boy held onto the tiny frame of the window and finally looked into the pale light. It was barely there, and the source of it could not be seen, but Harry suspected that the slightly dancing and shifting colors and game of shadows could mean that there was a torch nearby. It was illuminating a cave-like space that was roughly made with turns and holes in the walls, and one side of it Harry could not see at all as it went too far on the right, and, from the increasing amount of light, that’s where the torch seemed to be placed. Right in front of the boy, after the weirdly shaped widening ended, there was a tunnel which ended with ascending stairs that ended with another doors, this time – without a window.  
  
Harry’s feet protested severely of them holding the boy up steadily for such a long time, so Harry stopped looking through the window and sat down right by the door, supporting his back against it, and started thinking. What was the last thing he remembered? Harry frowned, his mind seeking at least vague answers. He was with Ron. They were getting ready for Quidditch, last game of the year against Ravenclaw. Harry had just given a pre-battle speech to the team as a captain. Ron was saying something about the last games always being the shittiest, and the rain pouring non-stop was not particularly lifting up the team’s spirits, but the Griffindor team nevertheless chatted and laughed and patted each other on the back as soon enough the teams will be asked to come to the field, madam Hooch will blow the whistle and red and blue flashes will paint in the rain… Well, Harry was pretty sure he did come out to the field, and game did happen, but he had no recollection of any of that, which he found weird – he was a teenager, not an old grandma with the memory capacity of a snortfish… or what was that fish Hagrid once showed in his class? Harry bit his lip as he started question his relation to the fish after all.  
  
Nevertheless, it was the Quidditch that Harry remembered as the last thing. But that did not give him enough information for him to be able to correlate with… whatever and wherever this was. His heart slightly jumped and, at the same time, he slightly smirked at the thought of him being kidnapped by Voldemort, but his rational mind overtook quickly the paranoia that subtly had settled down like a parasite over the years. If it was Voldemort, he would be hurting much more, not left alone like this in conditions that were certainly not nice but very bearable. He did not bleed, his bones were not broken, he was all alone in a weird place that suspiciously did look like a cell, but Voldemort’s cells had to be the reflection of his own being, right?  
  
Harry dug further. Maybe not Voldemort, but someone was definitely keeping Harry in here against his will, and that person definitely wasn’t a friend. His wand, for example, was taken away from him; Harry really doubted that it was just lost somewhere in the dark, because why then bother locking him in the first place? Now, with him being a prisoner of a person of an unknown power or status or just unknown everything, what could Harry do?  
  
Harry restlessly stood up and started to pace around in the small space he already knew. Then, he stopped, spread his arms to his sides again, and went further into the dark. That was all he could do at the moment – investigate the rest of the cell. And soon enough, after couple of short steps, Harry reached a wall, just as wet and unpleasant as the rest of the cell. The teenager turned around, facing the light, then turned back, placed his left hand on the wall, right hand in front of him, and walked, his fingers brushing the dirt on the wall along the way. After another couple of steps he had reached the left side of the cell. In the next minutes, Harry had found all the walls and walked around the cell, checking for anything, really. But there was no luck, and also jumping as high to reach the ceiling turned out to be useless as the cell seemed to be made for especially tall people, or the creator truly fancied a nice headspace. Nevertheless, Harry was really starting to grow impatient, because now the options of action had run down to zero.  
  
The boy carelessly kicked the floor, and the sand and the tiny moist bumps made the typical smirching sound against his foot. Then, Harry paced back to the door, looked out of the window again, and considered crying for help. Was it a good idea? There could be someone looking for him, and maybe all they needed is to hear Harry’s voice. On the other hand, person holding him here might hear the yell, it was really a high chance of that happening, and Harry decided he would rather just wait. Sooner or later someone had to come and check on him. One does not leave a prisoner to forget about him. Right?  
  
Harry frowned again, trying to convince himself about that, and he slid down to the floor again, resting his back and head against the door. This time, he closed his eyes, hoping his brain will do a sufficient job for once in providing a solution to this, or explanation, anything other than crazy ideas that were roaming in Harry’s mind. But nothing came, and Harry shivered. He did not know for how long he was sitting there, but after a while the teenager` slipped into a half consciousness, half sleep, and somewhere between in the twists and turns of that, he dreamt of a warm breakfast, Hedwig nibbling his finger, and Ron jumping on Harry’s bed after when bad dream about being a prisoner had kept him for way too long in the dream world.  
\---  
A loud bang woke Harry up. At first, Harry got really confused again about his situation, why was he so cold and why his whole body felt so tired, and it took a second more for him to remember that he was in a prison. Then he heard steps echoing dully from the cave walls to as they were coming closer to the prison door. One of the people coming was singing, and Harry jolted up to his feet, heart racing, and stepped back in his cell, facing the door, knowing that something really bad was about to happen.  
  
Bellatrix was singing something that really had neither a tune or a rhythm, and she mixed her bone-chilling musical expressions with loud, unnerving laugh that made Harry feel sick.  
  
‘’Harry Potter!’’ she mockingly called out, and Harry could hear the rotten smile on her face spitting out his name.  
  
‘’Harry Potter!’’ This time it was louder, and her laughs merged into the end of his name. Harry just stood his ground, heart ready to jump out his mouth, and without his wand he truly felt naked. His mind raced, desperate to find something that could help him defend himself of the terror that is going to follow, but there was no time, the Death Eaters were coming closer, and there was nowhere to run.  
  
Then, the steps died out. At first, Harry did not notice that, because his own panicked breath was so loud all he could hear was Bellatrix’s crazy chanting, but then the realization came over the boy and he held his breath for a moment. The silence was so thin, so refined; it sent cold chills down Harry’s body, this time not the ones which were induced by the wet conditions in the cell.  
  
A couple of moments passed, Harry let out a shaky, shallow breath and frowned, focusing all his concentration to his ears and eyes. What happened? The Death Eaters were just there. They couldn’t have just suddenly disappeared, right? The tone in Bellatrix’s voice was filled with raw hate, modified for her own enjoyment into some sort of fuel that would drive her to do things that made her victims wish they were dead, her cruelty and lack of any humanity was what made her appearance suck any warmth left in a place, petrify everything around her in stinging cold chrysalis, leaving breath and all that is good so fragile that all that had left for her to do was flick her wand and everything will fall to the ground and shatter in unamendable pieces.  
  
Harry stood there just like that, his eyes wide open and hands curled in fists, not knowing what to do. He did not dare to move closer to the door, in fact, he did not dare to move at all, and it drove his sanity itchy and the panic Harry had felt all the time being here was now at all times high.  
  
And then the light in the window got covered by someone, a dark, crazy-driven face with dirty curls falling. Harry shivered again, now feeling the terror all over his body.  
  
‘’Pity, little, baby Potter,’’ Bellatrix hissed melodically, her mocking voice breaking the absolute silence, and all Harry could see was her smile crooking her face once again before the door swung open with a huge bang.  
  
As the cell got considerably brighter, Harry could see that Bellatrix was accompanied with another man Harry thought he recognized as Goyle’s father; he clearly worked to keep his face unreadable, but Harry could see the lust to make someone hurt in his big, overshadowed eyes. The Death Eaters stood in the door frame, holding wands, both inspecting their bird in the cage, while Harry stood still in the middle of the cell, trying to compose his own face so that he did not come off as terrified.  
  
‘’Enjoying yourself, Potter?’’ Bellatrix spoke, rising her wand and scratching her head with the tip of it. Then, she looked to the right of Harry, somewhere on the ceiling, as if lost in thoughts. Harry did not answer, just stared at the duo and internally screaming for some miracle to happen.  
  
‘’Swallowed your tongue, boy? Well, that’s quite fine, because we do not really care about your well-being, do we, Edward?’’  
  
Goyle let out a tiny smirk, but none of the Death Eaters were wasting a second to look at each other. Goyle’s eyes were digging in Harry, while Bellatrix looked carefree, her eyes still wandering around the room. Then, they settled on Harry once again.  
  
‘’What really matters is that the Lord will be feasting tonight, and I’m…,’’ she finally slid her slender figure closer to Harry, ‘’I’m going to have fun. _Crucio!_ ’’  
  
Harry hit the floor hard and loudly gasped, all air forced out of his lungs. The surprise moment made him cry an ugly, rasp scream, but after some seconds he forced his mind with unknown, powerful, stubborn determination to shut his mouth, to not give the pleasure of him crying to the Death Eaters, and Harry just trashed around the floor, muscles all stretching to their maximums and bones bending till their joints were on the verge of breaking.  
  
Then, the curse stopped.  
  
‘’What is it, Potter? I thought you heard me say that I’m here to have some fun, but you are clearly depriving me of it by being. Too. Quiet!’’ she spat and looked down to Harry, face filled with disgust, and the corners of her mouth twitched.  
  
''Even boys with swallowed tongues can scream, Potter, don't you dare to assume I do not know that!'' She took a pause, as considering. ''Or do you dare? Potter?'' Bellatrix's face lightened in the same sadistic smile, just as her voice melted softer into fake innocent curiosity. Harry, trying to regain his strength, didn't bother to look at her and unfocused laid his eyes somewhere on the wall close to him. Then, with no warning, Bellatrix's foot slammed down on Harry's fingers. They cracked, and a new, stinging wave of pain traveled chaotically up the boy's hand. Harry shut his eyes and bit inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood..  
  
‘’I asked you a question, you retarded imbecile, do you dare to assume I don’t know how well can ugly, mute boys scream?’’ Flick of a wand, and Harry felt himself lifting of the ground and after a less than a second he slammed into wall before falling to the ground and hoping to finally pass out.  
  
‘’Bella,’’ a deep voice spoke for the first time of the visit. Harry half-consciously tried to grasp what Goyle was saying. ‘’You know you cannot kill him. The Lord may allow us to have a take on the boy, but Potter belongs to him. You do not want to face his wrath if you have too much… fun.’’  
  
The man talked calmly, but his voice had an aftertaste of cultivated fear.  
  
Bella stilled, her eyes hindering on Harry’s limp body, and then she turned to her partner.  
  
‘’Oh, but Edward, do you really think I could go that far? This one is one tough piece,’’ she turned back to the boy, bent down and took his chin violently in her palm, nails digging painfully into Harry’s skin.  
  
‘’You are just playing being week, aren’t you? I know the tricks, Potter. You see, you may know me as a killer that does not spend much of the time playing with the prey, like your filthy mutt - all it took was my wand pointed at him at the right moment and to say two words,’’ Harry felt desperate anger starting to burn inside, ‘’but that was no time to have this kind of fun. Now is the moment where all the hard work has lead us. This is a night of celebration. And I can see right through your dull, little eyes that you think you have outsmarted me, that I will leave you here because you are so close to death, so tired, such a pity, sad boy. But, Potter, you see… I really, really warned you what would happen if you dared to assume wrong things about me.’’  
  
She hit him in the face so hard Harry smacked his head against the wall. Without hesitation, a spell hit his body next, and pain spread through his whole body, and then the same spell hit another time, and another. Harry let out a muffled scream through his teeth and in a small pause that Bellatrix took he tried to crawl away on his stomach with his good hand. He did not get far, because a heavy boot crashed into his back, forcing the boy to drop back on the floor.  
  
‘’Flying away with broken wings? Truly an imbecile,’’ Goyle spoke, and Bellatrix let out a laugh. The laughter did not settle when new spells hit Harry, leaving cuts and bruises all over him, trashing his body around so that he hit the wall and the floor without any mercy. Harry did not know how long the duo was playing with him like a doll, but finally the boy started to feel like his conscience was fading away.  
  
The spells stopped. Harry did not move because there was no will or strength left in him to move a muscle, his cheek was now pressed against the dirty, wet floor and his eyes were half closed. His lungs drew shallow breaths, and his mouth was slightly opened due to his bloody nose that was definitely broken and so much filled with blood he could not breathe through it.  
  
Harry did not notice when the Death Eaters left him alone, nor did he fight the darkness steadily swallowing him whole.  
\---  
It was the third day in row of the seven year old Harry being locked in the cupboard. Nobody had said a word to him, and, to be honest, Aunt Petunia was the only one who made at least some contact with Harry, but only because he needed to be fed and allowed to go to a bathroom, since having a dead boy did not established the Dursleys being a normal, nice family to their neighbors. Nevertheless, the fact that Aunt Petunia did open the door twice a day to give him some leftovers and let him wash up did not mean that she spoke to him. Mr. Dursley’s voice Harry heard only in the mornings and then in the afternoons after he came back from work. After a day, Harry low-key wished that at least Dudley would come to yell at him, because Harry’s cousin really provided him with good entertainment and helped Harry to develop his snappy comeback skills. But even Dudley seemed to not care about Harry at all. They all had forgotten him.  
  
On the evening of that day, something changed. Mr. Dursley had come home in bad mood, yelled about his coworkers being idiots with no class, had Mrs Dursley comfort her husband, and even despite such efforts Dudley got sent to his room. It was quite usual for Mr. Dursley to heat up about things, but suddenly it evolved into something more. Later, in retrospect, Harry thought that he really should’ve predicted the following events, but then again, he couldn’t have really done anything to avoid them. Sometimes Mr Dursley just had to let his anger out, and under his roof lived the perfect subject for that.  
  
The cupboard doors flung open. Harry was sitting on his bed.  
  
‘’Boy, you useless waste of space!’’ Mr. Dursley spat.  
  
Harry looked at him with big eyes, knowing that this will not end well for him, but the least he could do was not to start crying or hide under the bedsheets in fear.  
  
‘’Don’t play fool with me, boy, or I will show you how to respect the people that keep you under a roof in warmth and safety! Come here!’’ he leaned into the cupboard, reached out his hand and grabbed Harry by his collar. The boy whimpered.  
  
‘’Uncle Vernon, you are hurting me!’’  
  
A smack was laid across Harry’s face.  
  
‘’Don’t you dare talk when I’m talking,’’ Mr. Dursley pulled Harry fully out of the cupboard and pressed against the wall. ‘’It seems like you really do deserve another lesson of respect.’’  
  
Before he could think better, Harry spoke again: ‘’But, sir, what did I do? I have been in here for days. There was nothing I could’ve done wrong.’’  
  
As soon as he finished, another slap was delivered, and Harry felt his lip splitting open.  
  
‘’You pathetic, idiotic slum, have you forgotten the reason you were put in here?’’ Harry had not forgotten that. He had burnt an expensive bacon for breakfast because Dudley was poking him all the time, asking repeatedly ‘’who spilled the trash here?’’, then he was so disappointed about the meat he yelled for a long time to punish Harry, and Mr and Mrs Dursley did not quite hesitate to do so.  
  
‘’I burnt the bacon.’’  
  
‘’Yes, you did, because you cannot handle even a job infants could do.’’  
  
Harry swallowed a remark that infants definitely could not do that, but he didn’t stop himself from saying the next thing.  
  
‘’It was because Dudley was bothering me. He poked me, and I could not do a good job.’’  
  
Mr. Dursley’s face took a new tone of red and in the next second Harry felt being violently shaken, his head slamming against the wall couple of times.  
  
‘’You lying, egoistic, ungrateful shit, don’t you dare calling Dudley on fault. It is you who is incapable of anything, it is you who screwed up. You are a disgrace. Waste of space, waste of air.’’ Mr. Dursley stopped shaking Harry, and gave him a disgusted smile.  
  
‘’You know what? Go back to the cupboard. I don’t want to see your idiotic face anymore, boy,’’ and without any consideration he threw Harry back, slammed the door and turned the lock. The boy got up, sat on his bed and examined his bruises. His head was bleeding, but Harry knew that head always bled more than the actual damage was. His face hurt and nose was bleeding, so was his lip, but he licked it and held a sleeve to his nose to stop the bleeding, and he knew that all this will pass. This wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, and all Harry could do was brace himself and imagine how the knight figurine on the shelf came to life and, with the horse’s mane flying in the wind, the knight will stretch out his hand towards Harry.  
  
‘’Are you lost, my friend?’’ he will ask, voice fierce.  
  
‘’Yes,’’ Harry will answer.  
  
‘’Are you brave enough, my friend?’’ the knight will then ask.  
  
‘’Yes,’’ Harry will say.  
  
‘’Well then, do you want to join my journey, my dear friend?’’ the knight will suggest.  
  
Third time is the charm.  



	2. Pestilence

  
Harry did not know for how long he had passed out, and that wasn't really his immediate concern, because the second he regained his senses he gasped. Everything hurt. Every inch of his body felt abused, and Harry just laid down, completely unwilling to move a finger. His head spun nevertheless, and just in a matter of seconds Harry forced himself to turn a bit and vomit.  
  
As the spasms finally went away, the boy slumped down again, thankfully not in the mess he had just made, but even if it was so Harry probably wouldn't have cared.  
  
''So it's Voldemort after all,'' he whispered and passed out again.  
\---  
It might've been couple of hours when Harry woke up again, this time his head wasn't acting like crazy, and Harry decided to try to stand up.  
  
First thing he fully noticed was that his left hand – the one Bellatrix so nicely crushed – is swollen and the fingers have taken purple tone. Harry did not try to move them, because it hurt either way, but he accidently found a positive note in this – his wand hand at least wasn't the one she crushed. But not like Harry had a wand right now anyway.  
  
His legs shook tremendously, but still supported him, and with a quick, yet careful examination (done with one hand), Harry was relieved that nothing else didn't seem to be broken. His biggest concerns, however, were the huge cuts on his legs, hands, head and back, and his clothes had accumulated big amount of dirt from the cell. Harry hesitated what to do. It would be beneficial to tear his shirt up, but since he had nothing to clean his wounds, they would still get possibly infected, and he would get colder. Harry decided to wait until his mind clears a bit more in order to deal with such quite alarming problem.  
  
Then, Harry noticed than something has changed. First, for some reason, the big cell had now a bit more light than it had before the Death Eaters came to ''have fun'', why so, Harry did not know. Second, he wasn't alone in the cell. More specifically, it wasn't a living thing accompanying the boy, but beside the door now was a metal bowl.  
  
Harry slowly limped towards it, pain striking his body on every movement. In the bowl was a liquid which looked like water, but Harry knew enough of the wizarding world and the kind of people Death Eaters were to question everything presented to him.  
  
But, Merlin, how thirsty he was!  
  
Before coming up to the door, Harry had somewhat forgotten his thirst and hunger, because pain prevailed, as always, but now, the water-like substance being here, right in front of him, ready to be devoured and used to wash some of the scars, made the teenager feel thirst like he had never before.  
  
Harry knelt down and again thought about his actions. Bellatrix did say that they will not kill him, and it certainly wasn't in Voldemort's character to poison his arch enemy to death, it would be so distasteful and impersonal that it would make Harry himself question his importance to Voldemort. Harry knew that Tom will want to see Harry's eyes as he killed him and the light left he boy at last so he could gloat to his band and make up metaphors of his greatness. But that did not mean Voldemort didn't order Death Eaters to give Harry poison that will definitely make him suffer.  
  
But, then again, they would want to see that in person as well.  
  
So the prisoner decided to put the fingertips of his bad hand in the liquid first, just to test out whether it is a potion that will burn the skin off or not. He was certainly relieved that it felt very pleasant; it was cold, yet soft, like water from a spring. It also soothed his smashed fingers and Harry let out a relaxed breath.  
  
Then, he lifted his fingers, smelled, and, after it smelled like nothing bad, he licked them.  
  
It was water after all.  
  
The boy allowed himself to smile. So this was Death Eaters keeping him alive for the when right moment will come. Keeping a deer in a paddock so the hunters could have fun shooting it down when the mood appears. Nevertheless, Harry felt more relaxed, and he drunk couple of small gulps out of the bowl, daring not to spill a drop.  
  
The wounds, Harry thought, they really had to be taken care of. So he washed the ones on his legs and arms, and everywhere else he could reach, but back turned out to be a problem. The boy could not inspect how big the slash was, but it hurt like hell, so it was either long, or deep, or most probably both. Bellatrix would never half-ass her signature work.  
  
Harry felt how the fatigue was coming back and everything started to feel twice as heavy as it already was. With a shaky, wet hand, he reached his back, winced when his fingers touched the scar, and tried to apply as much water as he could. It took a couple of tries, until the boy truly felt exhausted and considered that resting on his good side, without the back touching the floor, is all he could think about. And, without further a due, Harry laid down next to the bowl, not being able to gather strength to move somewhere else, and he closed his eyes once again.  
\---  
Time passed. Harry didn't know whether currently it was a day or night, but he started to keep up some sort of vague calendar system, actually thanks to the Death Eaters. None of them came back the way Bellatrix and Goyle had come, and Harry wondered whether Voldemort thought he would die if suffered from more damage, so he withheld his servants from having their fun. But now once in a while the bowl of water got refilled. It always happened while Harry was sleeping, so he did not know how they were doing it, but one thing was clear – they did not want him to die of thirst.  
  
Most of the time Harry spent laying down or randomly walking in circles to keep his muscles in form. And he thought a lot. He thought about Hogwarts, his friends, professors, Quidditch, everything that had brought Harry so much joy and sense of belonging.  
  
He wondered about Ron and Hermione, what were they doing. Did they know he was missing? Were they even looking for him? If so, how far have they gotten? And then, with cold shivers running down his spine, Harry considered what if all he knew of outside was killed? After all, he did not know what happened, how did he get kidnapped, was there a fight, were there casualties?  
  
No, Harry brushed it off. It was Hogwarts, the home of the best witches and wizards. If they could not protect Harry, most possibly they were still able to protect the children and themselves.  
  
Harry's stomach protested when he thought about the school and how he missed the wonderful meals every day made by skilled house elves. He felt anger rising again, and had to bite insides of his cheeks to stop tears dwelling up in his eyes when he remembered all the lessons, all the homework, all the practices, even small and unimportant things like walking down a hall. Cleaning his broom. Asking Hermione to re-read his homework. Asking Hermione to finish his homework. Talking to Ron about Chudley Cannons. Whining together with Ron about the amount of work they are forced to do. Listening to Luna chatter about something out of this world in her crystal clear voice. Neville voluntarily helping him in herbology while talking in excitement about some sort of new plant he got at home. And Ginny, smiling at him from the other side of the Common Room while reading a book when they both knew she hasn't turned a page in a long time.  
  
Harry missed them so, so much.  
  
His heart felt heavy, and mind was frantically going circles to think of something that would make this prison situation better, to find a way how he could probably talk to some of the less established death eaters. Maybe he should fake him being asleep to finally catch how his water is being changed? He needed to get out of here so badly, it had become an itching urge. Constant anger had settled in Harry, and he did not bother to think whether it was a good thing that helps him to survive or a destructive force that will lead to something even worse.  
  
Harry sighed. He sure was getting desperate, but that's all he got now. He was on a moving conveyor line, completely surrounded by dark, and while he couldn't see anything, Harry knew that at the end of it nothing came out alive.  
  
''You have to be coming to get me, right? You are planning it all through it. You know the location. Know the costs. The hows and whats. You have to, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore. Right?''  
\---  
Harry felt hot and cold at the same time, his hands were shaking and head, which was getting clearer and clearer with each rest, was now back to step one. He knew he was sick, and, because his skin on his back felt itchy, he objectively guessed he had gotten some sort of damned infection despite his efforts of cleaning himself up.  
  
The boy did not know what to do now. He still had his water; they still brought it to him couple of times, just enough for him to not to pass away, and also after one particular nap there had been an old bread as well, but none of that will help Harry now that he was seriously sick. For the first time being in the cell, the teenager was out of options on how to survive.  
  
Anger and fever driven, Harry paced around the cell, looking and feeling like Moody, but he could not care less at the moment.  
  
''Hey, Tom!'' he stopped and yelled, Harry's voice so unfamiliar to himself.  
  
''I know you can hear me. You can probably see me as well, right? Wouldn't be quite you to miss all this,'' he drew a breath, gathering himself for the rest of the speech.  
  
''I'm bringing news to you, because, as you might haven't noticed, I'm sick. Because of your backstreet bitch. So, if you don't want me dead of an infection, dead before you could fully have the experience and satisfaction of killing me, I suggest you bring me a cure, Tom, otherwise…'' Harry had to stop again to get some air. His head was starting to pulse too much to think clearly.  
  
''Is this what you want? Watch how the reminder of your past failures, the baby boy who almost killed you, slowly deteriorates not even from your hand, but from a natural disease of dirt and mold? Where is the intimacy, Tom? Where is your wish to look at me as the life leaves my eyes? I'm sure you remember the graveyard - such a poor execution. And now this?''  
  
Harry could not yell anymore, so he turned the volume down, breathing now more calmly.  
  
''Have I overestimated you, Tom?''  
  
He looked around as if searching for an eye spying on him, and then laid down again to sleep more. Harry knew someone was listening, or watching, and he knew Voldemort's madness enough to be fairly sure he will do something to prevent Harry from dying or becoming too disabled for him to pick the fruits of Voldemort finally getting him and killing him in the way he always had wanted. The dark wizard was not even a human anymore, just a container with a modified soul, bound with forbidden magic, yet Harry found it quite easy to predict how his mind worked, how to make him tick, and he found it especially easy now that he had nothing to lose but his life. And that was something Voldemort definitely wanted to have himself. He considered himself standing above the absolutes, the life and death, and he will not bow in front of the nature as its cruel, impartial judgement was being laid on Harry right now.  
  
So the prisoner slept, waiting for the response of the person from above.  
\---  
A grand bunch of cough could be heard from under the stairs. It stopped for couple of minutes and then continued just as loud and harsh as before it ended. Someone was not having a good time.  
  
Aunt Petunia opened the cupboard's door.  
  
''Will you stop that for once? The walls are shaking,'' she looked inside, her big hook of a nose wrinkled in a disgusted expression.  
  
''I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia,'' a weak, raps voice came out of the bed sheets. A sniff.  
  
''Your apologies do not mean nothing if you don't intend to follow your word, ''she was still standing in the door frame, partially because she did not want to catch anything from Harry, partially because she simply could not fit into the cupboard.  
  
''Here, have this syrup. I will not let my day be constantly disturbed by your cough.''  
  
Her hand was holding a small bottle and a spoon.  
  
''Come one, take it, you don't think I will come in so I could catch whatever you managed to bring upon yourself.''  
  
Harry hesitated for a second, he really did not want to move because his bones felt like breaking in half even when he didn't move them. But not to anger his Aunt more, he threw the bedsheets off himself, climbed out of the bed vision blurry, and took the bottle.  
  
''Thanks, Aunt Petunia.''  
  
She looked at him like someone who had just opened a fridge and found a month old fish laying there.  
  
''You drink this every two hours. And I better hear that cough go away otherwise I will start to assume you are willing to be sick just to sleep off your chores,'' Petunia was piercing Harry with her eagle-eyed look, ''who, by the way, will be waiting for you the second you don't splatter everything with your sickness.''  
  
And she shut the door, Harry still standing there and holding the bottle. Then, the boy went back to his bed, looked under his pillow and got out couple of pills, wrapped in a small napkin. Those were the ones that beat down the fever. Harry had felt so sick and hot yesterday he sneaked out of his cupboard and with the walls and ground twisting and shifting he somehow got to bathroom, opened the bathroom medicine cabinet, found the ones with proper description and wend back to his room, now couple of small white pills richer. He knew he had to take them twice a day, and he already felt better as the fever was mostly defeated. And now, he had a cough syrup.  
  
All was good. He will get better. He will survive, and knight Robert will be so proud of him.  
  
''I can appreciate brave warriors who can fight alone their battles, small or big,'' he will say. ''And I, a loyal companion, will stay by your side. No fair man celebrates the good times with his friend, and then leaves them in lone when the bad ones arrive. Just sleep, my dear friend. Tomorrow is a new, better day.''  



	3. Famine

  
''Harry!''  
  
Someone was poking him repeatedly. Harry grunted, fatigue had long taken over his reflexes.  
  
''Harry, mate, wake up!''  
  
''Ron! Do something before they catch on us!''  
  
''I am! He is just… really not waking up.''  
  
''Honestly, Ron, poking won't do the trick apparently! Just… figure something out!''  
  
A pause. Then, the boy spoke, voice quiet and apologetic.  
  
''Sorry, mate, I wish you woke up earlier.''  
  
Stinging slap was delivered upon Harry's cheek and he finally woke up as if life had just been slapped into him.  
  
''Oh, thank Merlin! Harry!''  
  
Harry wished his glasses weren't broken, because this was the sight he had dreamt on for days he spent in the cell, and in his imagination it was, well, not blurry. But it didn't matter right now. Even if he was blind he would've known who were standing right in front of him.  
  
Harry stood for a moment, trying to grasp what is happening. Ron and Hermione were looking at him like they didn't know how to approach his friend, like he was some sort of rare creature they had just met and neither Ron nor Hermione hadn't thought out what they would do after they find him even though they were sure they knew.  
  
However, it was Harry that ended the brief awkwardness.  
  
''Right. So, Ron,'' he slowly eyed his ginger friend, composing all his mental and physical strength he had left to cooperate. ''Which Quidditch team is your favorite? How old is your brother Bill? And which chess piece were you playing as on our way to stop Voldemort from getting the Philosophers stone?''  
  
Ron pulled his face into disbelief.  
  
''Harry, mate, have you truly gone mad? What are you inclining-''  
  
''Ron, it's okay,'' Hermione took a step closer, and her face got a bit brighter, '' I mean, you would expect Harry not to trust us, because we might as well be Death Eaters. We could only guess what happened here to him… So, let's just answer, it's actually a very reasonable thing to do.''  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
''Alright, then. You know I always root for Chudley Cannons and that I played as a Knight all those years back. And as for my brother… I swear I knew…'' Ron frowned, digging into his own memory. ''Gotta be a bit below 30, but I just cannot remember. You know how many we are. Sometimes I even mess up my own birthday date.''  
  
The fire-haired boy looked really concerned and worried about his inability to answer everything, but Harry exhaled.  
  
''Ron, Hermione,'' he looked at them, tiny smile finding its way on Harry's face after Merlin knows how many days, ''I'm so glad you are here.''  
  
Harry didn't waste any time and stepped forwards to hug his friends. They threw their hands around him as well. The golden trio stood silent for a moment. Harry clung on tightly, his left hand burning in pain, but it had become manageable over the days.  
  
''Harry, I know…'' Hermione begun somewhere beside his ear, but then stopped, searching for words. ''Harry, we must go. We are really running out of time.'' Harry held on for a second longer and then let go. He eyed the wide-open door and then returned to his friends.  
  
She looked at him, frowned, and then pointed her wand somewhere on the floor.  
  
_''Reparo.''_  
  
She bent down and picked up a pair of glasses. They got broken on the first day, courtesy of Bellatrix, but over the time they started to fall apart even more and eventually Harry didn't bother anymore to put them on.  
  
Now, Hermione reached and put them on his nose. Finally, the blur went away. His friends' faces were still covered in shadows, and even in the semi-dark Harry could see how their clothes were dirty and cheeks were covered in scratches. There were also dark circles around their eyes, but for a second Harry thought those were just the shadows dancing on their faces like they did all around them.  
  
''Thanks.''  
  
Hermione gave him a tiny smile.  
  
''Right. So, what's the plan?''  
  
''The Order is making a distraction. A big battle is going on right now. All the Death Eaters were drawn out of the dungeons, and we snuck in. Now, we have to get to a portkey in a forest right outside the walls of this place and we will be safe,'' Hermione ran over everything in hurry and started to lead out the boys out of the cell. ''While the diversion is happening quite successfully, we still need to be very careful, because we do not know when a Death Eater might show up, because they definitely know the reason why they are being attacked. And, Harry…'' she looked at him apologetically. ''I'm sorry, but the spare wand we got for you got taken away from us. One of the Death Eaters we fought got it.''  
  
Harry felt a rush of anxiety run through him as they moved through the cave towards the staircase. No wand in a fight was bad news, he had always had one when shitstorm like this was happening. Still, he nodded.  
  
''It's okay, Hermione. As long as we run as hell and I got both of you and all those people out fighting, we are going to be fine.''  
  
''You got that right, mate. This is a huge plan with lots of people involved. Even Ministry joined in the forces, Aurors came to cooperate with the Order, imagine that? The Daily Prophet named this the biggest operation of the century, they just waited for you to get so much in trouble they could finally use such headline.''  
  
Harry would've laughed if he didn't feel like everything was happening too much at the same time. They were now climbing up the stairs to reach the basement door, and Harry had never felt more useless. He had no wand, no strength, and right now he had to concentrate enough to escape the prison when he didn't even quite know where he was? This asked for him to fully trust his friends, and he could do that, but he had never felt more naked and like a victim as he did now. He needed to have wand in his hand, he needed to have the stamina to keep his mind sharp and motions agile. Right now, he just slumbered in the middle of Hermione and Ron while they got their game one, and tried not to think about how his body screamed about every step.  
  
''Right. Harry, behind these doors is the Malfoy Mansion, also one of the main nests for You Know Who. A really nasty, ugly place, to be honest. No wonder Malfoy grew up to be a pale, sneaky weasel, whose daddy-''  
  
''Ron! Please. Focus.''  
  
Suddenly, a distant explosion trembled the building, the walls shaking and couple of small rocks falling down from the cave ceiling. The trio braced themselves against the wall and looked around as waiting for something to happen.  
  
''What was that?'' Harry had to ask.  
  
''I don't know,'' Hermione wondered, ''but it looks like some sort of spell hit the wall of the house. We better get out of the basement before this cave crumbles after another blow.''  
  
They opened the huge door slowly and wands ready, but the dark, cold hall that reached far in front of them was completely abandoned. The ceiling was held with multiple marble columns, but nothing besides huge chandeliers and drapes neatly tied by the sides of the windows on the both sides of the hall was indicating that the family owning this place wanted to make their house actually home.  
  
Harry looked outside the windows. It looked like it was midday, but since it was also raining like crazy, it could've been almost any time of the day.  
  
''Come on. This hall, then turn left, another corridor, and then we will reach backside door, already warded by Tonks to make us invisible – but not unnoticeable, so the second we reach the door, we need to be quiet. We won't be seen, but we definitely would be heard. Harry, can you manage this?''  
  
Harry forced himself to look at his friends. Both of them were staring at him with a worry – Ron felt uncomfortable knowing his concern could be seen in his face and he tried to hide it with no success; Hermione on the other hand didn't care about hiding her concern.  
  
Harry stared at them back until he realized his friends were waiting for him to answer.  
  
''I'm good. Really. I will manage. Just… Let's get out of this place.''  
  
That seemed to satisfy Ron and Hermione enough, although Harry knew that both of them were worried sick about him, and that made him feel even worse. Nevertheless, they continued to move out right through the marble hall.  
  
''So, for how long have I been missing?'' Harry asked and his voice felt too loud for the situation they were in. So far, though, the distraction seemed to be a success and no Death Eaters had crossed their path.  
  
''Nine days,'' Ron replied, and Harry didn't know how he felt about the answer. After he had woken up feeling better and infection cured, right after the burst of anger towards Voldemort, Harry noticed that he wasn't sure how many days he had counted so far. The number had gotten lost somewhere between the tremors, sweat and pain. Nine days; it sounded not a lot. But everything that's not matter multiplies when one is being held in the prison of the dark.  
  
''Alright,'' Harry nodded again, figuring he really didn't need to comment on that and they all knew that each of them was thinking the same.  
  
The mansion felt eerie, especially when Harry knew there was a battle going on outside. Besides the rain knocking on the windows, his own breath, and their rushed footsteps, no other sound could be heard, and it felt surreal knowing that what was happening right now was a matter of life and death of so many people.  
  
Just as he thought that, a red light flashed on the left side of the hall outside in the rain, the trio automatically threw their eyes to that. A man, dressed all in black – a Death Eater – was running and throwing jinxes over his shoulder as another man – Harry could not see who it was – followed in a steady and determined pace, deflecting every spell sent his way. As the Death Eater picked up his run, so did the other person, and soon they could not be seen in the rain anymore.  
  
''Come on, let's go. The sooner we get to the portkey, the better, and no one better see us in here.''  
  
The trio reached the end and got to a small corridor with couple of fancy, baroque chairs and small round tables set by its sides. There were no windows, but the candles were lit and Harry for a second caught himself wondering how did the Malfoys manage to make even the light of fire so cold, because the room, despite of its potential coziness, sent shivers down his spine. The constant spasming shadows of the candle lights created creepy, distorted silhouettes on the surfaces, and it felt like Voldemort himself had put a spell on the candles to corrupt them, making them unable to bring the light properly in the world.  
  
''Right, now another turn, a long corridor, and then we are finally out. And remember – no sound, not even a whisper outside the mansion. Does everyone get it?''  
  
''Yes, Hermione, the first time you mentioned this was good enough to remind me I want to live, thanks.''  
  
''Oh I'm glad, Ron, when did you become so responsible, care to inform me?''  
  
''Right when I was born. Responsible is my third name, actually. My Mom just knew it the second she saw me. It's written in my eyes, she said.''  
  
Harry carried on silent, but his heart felt lighter. He had missed this so much it had almost driven him mad, all alone with nothing to work on, all beaten up and feeling like dying most of the time. His mind wondering through the memories, bringing up the images behind the closed eyes. That was all he had back in the cell, that was the one thing Voldemort couldn't strip Harry from, and he clung to that dearly.  
  
The last corridor was narrow, but with a high ceiling, all made in marble. The floor was covered with a dark green rug, so their footsteps got even more muffled. On the walls there were multiple portraits of people, most of them having white hair, indicating that this was the wall of Malfoy top tier pure blood family they all were so proud of. As the friends hurried down towards the exit, the portraits all were looking at them with the same expression, eyes following the trio, judging, but not even once a portrait spoke to comment, or yell, or to warn. Harry felt somewhat relieved because of that, but he had a serious suspicion that the second they leave the Malfoy ancestors will get into action. But right now, only thing he could do was to fight towards the portkey with his own body.  
  
The pairs of eyes inspecting the runners and bunch of white hair flashed on the sides of them, and soon enough they reached a wooden door with iron decorations of a grape vine encircling the frame and two snakes, ready to bite in the bunch.  
  
''Here we are,'' Hermione put her hand on the iron handle and looked at the two boys. ''Whatever happens, just run straight towards the forest. About hundred yards in there will be a small pond and a willow bending over it. By the willow there is a boot which will take us to Hogwarts. It is necessary for us to stay together. Now, if we do get separated for some reason and Ron or I get first to the boot, we will wait for you. But, Harry, I must now ask you something you will not like.'' She bit her lip.  
  
''If you are the first to get there, do not wait for us.''  
  
Harry shook his head. Were they joking right now?  
  
''Definitely no way. I'm not gonna leave you there with Death Eaters making chaos out of everything they see! It's way too dangerous! I can wait for you as long as I need.''  
  
''Harry, mate,'' Ron looked at him with the most determined look Harry had seen him today, ''we have a wand, you don't. You are the reason this is mission is happening, and getting you out of danger is the goal. Plus, don't worry about us getting out of here. Obviously everything is planned out, because another group of specialized Aurors have worked out a way how to get everyone of us out of here.''  
  
''Yeah, and how are they gonna do that, with everyone being in the battle risking their lives?''  
  
''Teleportation,'' Hermione chimed in and smiled. ''The Aurors are monitoring the grounds and have placed tracking spells on the people on our side. The second a witch or a wizard doesn't have a contact with a Death Eater and isn't in a direct danger, they will apparate and disapparate again with the person with them.''  
  
''Sounds crazy and dangerous. Is there really a special Auror unit for such task?''  
  
Now Ron smiled as well.  
  
''Yes. And yes. But everyone knows the plan, and the second we get you away, they will start their part. So, Harry, really. Just trust us, and, for once, get ready to leave me or Hermione behind. We are going to be fine.''  
  
Harry wasn't convinced, but they really needed to move on. The more time they spent chatting, the bigger the chance of people getting hurt outside.  
  
''Alright.''  
  
''You promise? Harry, please, do you really promise to go away if we get separated?''  
  
''Yes, I promise,'' he lied again and started to feel a bit annoyed, ''now let's just move on.''  
  
Hermione eyed him with doubt, but then turned to the door. The handle got pushed down, the door opened, and a gust of rain hit the teenagers. Instantly, their faces and fronts got soaking wet.  
  
In front of them, there was a nice garden with lots of bushes, roses and nicely mowed lawn. In the middle of it was a small marble fountain, not working and filled with dirty rain water. The garden was almost completely surrounded by a hedge, on the right and the left side nothing could be seen over it, except a wide path leading into the garden right beside the wall of the house. At the back of the garden however was a forest which stood there in the rain like a crowd of sorrowing entities.  
  
The sounds of battle could be heard around them, Harry saw the flashes of spells being sent around the corners, yet the whole situation still felt so utterly surreal – the beautiful garden soaking up the shower, the leaves and the blossoms getting hit by the heavy raindrops, the whole garden just chatting under the rain felt like oasis, a quiet, mesmerizing place, while just behind the house was happening a huge battle of multiple injuries and, very possibly, casualties. Harry breathed slowly in and out. Just a little bit, and he could finally stop pretend to have himself together.  
  
  
Hermione looked at the boys once more and put a finger to her lips. The spell that Nimphadora Tonks put on the garden was to protect them from being seen, and, as long as they kept silent, they should be fine even if someone shows up. Plus, the rain was giving them a good noise concealment.  
  
However, Harry later thought, he already'd had a feeling that things were going way to smooth and something was bound to go wrong. The fate and circumstances brought the trio to that moment just as they got to the middle of the garden.  
  
A jinx flew and hit Hermione on her back. She fell.  
  
''Hermione!'' Ron cried, but fortunately she already was slowly getting up. The teenagers spun around and now were looking at Mr. Malfoy himself, standing right by the door they had just come from. He slowly slid closer to them.  
  
''How foolish of you to think that under any circumstances you'd be able to get away from my own house without me noticing.''  
  
Harry pulled his right hand into a fist, wishing more than ever to have a wand in it. What was going on? Where was the spell Tonks had put on? How could Lucius see them?  
  
Ron and Hermione placed themselves in front of Harry which he hated with all his being.  
  
''As you can see, we actually got pretty far, Malfoy,'' Ron spat out. ''Your house is just as empty and ugly as the space in your and other Death Eaters skulls.''  
  
Lucius smirked.  
  
''Tough talk, Weasley. Maybe you would've gotten somewhere if you didn't spent time with such inconvenient obstacles and mudbloods. Although, I guess you wouldn't have, since your whole family has from the beginning chosen to be the absolute filth and disgrace of the wizarding world.''  
  
Harry twitched forwards as he was ready to brush past his friends, get to Malfoy and then beat him down with only his own fists, but Ron put his hand in front of Harry, while his own eyes were drilling into Malfoy, filled with pure wish to hurt the man so much he'd cry.  
  
''Oh, look who's there, almost didn't see you. The great and powerful Harry Potter, hiding behind the backs of his friends. How was the visit, Potter? Did you enjoy the apartments I provided? And how was the room service?''  
  
_''Stupify!''  
_  
Ron sent his jinx towards the man, not wanting to hear anymore, but Lucius simply blocked it with nothing more than a flick of a wrist. Malfoy kept slowly getting closer. Harry felt himself tremble, not sure whether of the cold rain, the exhaustion, or both.  
  
''Now, now. No need to throw first year spells around, we all know that will be no use. What we want here is you all being smart for once and putting down your wands, so we could all go back inside and have a talk.''  
  
_''Stupify!''  
_  
_''Expelliarmus!''  
_  
Now both Hermione and Ron sent jinxes at Malfoy at the same time, and those again were easily reflected by him.  
  
But now, Malfoy looked annoyed.  
  
''I can see how reasoning gets past your ears, even yours, mudblood - here I was thinking you had at least some sense in you. But turns out you all are just a bunch of degenerates with a delusion of self-importance and hero syndrome. I will repeat myself – surrender, because there is nothing else you can do if you don't want to die.''  
  
''You won't kill us. Voldemort likes to kill his pray himself,'' Hermione spoke, still holding wand in front of her.  
  
Lucius pulled again his artificial smile.  
  
''How naïve of you to think that, girl. Do you really dare to think that you are important to the Dark Lord? You and Weasley could die by my hand in the next second, and no one will even cry about you,'' Malfoy was now only couple of meters from them, and then he stopped. ''The only valuable item here is Potter.''  
  
And with that, a lot of things happened at once. A white flash hit the Death Eater's back and he fell, eyes wide in terror and shock. The escapees stepped back in confusion. Another spell sent towards Malfoy tied him with ropes tightly. The messy-looking silhouette that attacked Malfoy stood by the mansion calmly and looked at the three friends.  
  
Harry whimpered and couldn't stop himself from stumbling forward.  
  
''Sirius? Sirius!?''  
  
''Harry!'' Sirius came towards him, smiling.  
  
Harry continued couple of steps but then stopped. Ron and Hermione caught up with him.  
  
''No. No, wait. This can't be. You are… dead, I saw you…''  
  
Sirius's smile reduced, and a shadow of sadness came over his face.  
  
''What is going on here?'' Hermione looked at Sirius, concerned and full of doubt, her wand still up and pointed towards the man. So did Ron.  
  
Harry's Godfather stepped closer.  
  
''Harry, Ron, Hermione, it's okay. I understand your fear and reasoning. However… the events in the Ministry last year were too blurry, chaotic, and involved lots of dark magic. Lots,'' he looked in each of the kids eyes and, when saw that neither Hermione nor Ron were going to lower their wands, he put his hands up as surrendering.  
  
To Harry, this felt very similar to the first time he truly met Sirius, back then – a scurvy killer of his parents that had escaped Azkaban to kill the last Potter standing. Standing in front of him, mumbling something that sounded like crazy talk from a crazy man, psychopath, dangerous individual. Those years ago, the three friends also didn't allow themselves to be fooled before they learned the truth and Sirius became Harry's closest thing to family. And then died two years later, in front of Harry.  
  
Therefore, Harry did not quite know what to get out of what was happening right now.  
  
''Let me explain, please. No one gets out of the Veil I fell through, and normally, I wouldn't be standing here. But later, after everything settled down and no people of the Ministry were wandering around, Voldemort came back for me.''  
  
Harry frowned in utter disbelief. Sirius smiled at that, as understanding the questions running through Harry's head.  
  
''I know, it is weird, and doesn't sound like him, but he, of course, had his own agenda, tied with you, Harry. He pulled me out with some sort of dark magic, brought me back to this world, and then took me here. Put me in a dungeon for me to be used at the right moment for getting you. But thankfully, my moment of escape approached me earlier than his moment of satisfaction. Some sort of blasting jinx hit right the wall of my cell, and I got out. Took a wand from a Death Eater who was lying there in the debris, and… well… I guess here I am. Not the resurrection everyone has been expecting, I guess.''  
  
Harry just stood in shock, trembling. He wanted this to be real so, so badly, yet his brain screamed something was wrong, something had to be wrong, because no, Sirius is dead, Harry saw it his own eyes and no spell can bring the dead back to life. Except the Veil – was it really the gate to the land of the dead?  
  
Harry ran hand over his face. Did he read about it somewhere? Did he have any knowledge of the Veil at all? Why the hell he couldn't remember anything? Or was this just his brain being paranoid?  
  
It was Ron who spoke first.  
  
''If you truly are Sirius… If this is really happening, you must give up your wand.''  
  
Sirius looked at Ron with unreadable facial expression, and hesitated.  
  
''Come one. You can't expect me to give the wand right in the middle of a battle.''  
  
Ron stepped forward, his wand still pointed towards the man: ''Don't care, to be honest. Prove that you are who you say to be. Give us the wand!''  
  
Sirius flinched a bit at the last sentence, but put down his hand and pulled out his wand before he extended his arm to give the wand to Ron.  
  
''Here you go, then.''  
  
Ron was just about to take it, still skeptical look on his face, but a jinx hit Sirius from the side and he fell.  
  
''Sirius Black!''  
  
Stinging cold laughter introduced Bellatrix to the stage. Ron stumbled back towards his other two friends.  
  
''Oh, look what the dog dragged in – Potter and his two little friends!'' She came closer, ignoring Sirius completely, and smiled at the trio with her rotten teeth. ''Isn't this just lovely to meet all you here. You know, this really brings me back to the last year, that little accident in the Department of Misteries. How was it, Potter? How was it to meet the person you were sure is dead because of you?''  
  
_''Reducto!''  
_  
With the same ease as Malfoy before, Bellatrix shielded herself from Hermione's spell and then went on like nothing had happened, as it was just a fly she smacked away.  
  
''It's a shame, however. The Lord meant the main event to happen quite differently. But I have to admit that this also has a certain appeal. Especially because this time will be the last one your mutt draws his breath.''  
  
_''Expelliarmus!''  
_  
_''Confringo!''  
_  
_''Stupify!''  
_  
But Bellatrix only laughed and danced, avoiding the spells, and then sent one herself.  
  
Harry felt flying backwards for a moment and then landing and hitting his head against something. Bells came to ring in his ears, his vision was filled with black spots and head was spinning like crazy. He felt something hard and cold against his cheek, but felt too dizzy to get up.  
  
Harry opened his eyes again, and waited for his eyesight to clear out. He was by the fountain, and in the left, there was Hermione and Bellatrix fighting, all noise muffled like under water. Harry grinded his teeth drew couple of breaths and tried to stand up himself.  
  
A bright flash of spell made the boy look again at the duel and this time, Hermione wasn't in the sight, it was just Bellatrix and some other man. Harry blinked, trying to distinguish who that was, but the black spots took over his vision again and he closed his eyes. Still trying to get up, he braced himself against the marble with his good hand, leaning heavily over the edge of the fountain, and stopped again to take some breath and look what's going on, all sounds still weirdly quiet and picture distorted.  
  
Now, it was Ron, the other man, and Bellatrix, and Harry really tried his best to see where Hermione was or who was the other man, but then, another figure ran in – it was Sirius. He ran to the unknown man and it seemed like they talked about something…  
  
With a loud grunt Harry finally stood up and rubbed his eyes under the glasses.  
  
''-arry.''  
  
He blinked. Someone was coming closer. Was it Sirius? Was it Hermione? God, what how severely had he banged his head?  
  
''Harry.''  
  
The person now was very close, and the voice got clearer. It was Sirius after all.  
  
''Harry, can you hear me? Are you okay?''  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
''Harry, you have hit your head badly. But you must gather your strength right now, there is no time. We are battling Bella.''  
  
The boy looked past Sirius and saw now both Ron and Hermione throwing jinxes and jumping around the garden, fighting Bellatrix; the unknown man was not in the sight and Harry wondered whether it was just his head messing with him.  
  
''Harry? Do you understand me?''  
  
He looked back at Sirius.  
  
''Yeah. Yeah, I do. I just got dizzy a bit.''  
  
Sirius smiled again.  
  
''It's okay. Now, we must get you out of here. As I understand, there is a portkey waiting for you. You must run. We will hold her back.''  
  
''Why can't Ron and Hermione come as well?''  
  
''Harry, there is no time to explain. For now, leave your friends and run!''  
  
Harry was more than confused.  
  
''I can't, Sirius, you know I can't leave them. Or you come with me! At least you! You have to come with me. You can't be here.''  
  
''Harry, my boy,'' Sirius smirked, ''remember the Aurors? They will bring us back to safety. All that matters right now is you. Now, go, go!'' And, after giving Harry another begging look, Sirius turned around and sent a jinx towards Bellatrix.  
  
Harry's head spun again and he had to close his eyes. The bells came back full force. He put his palm to his forehead and wiped the water off it. Muffled sounds that had come back for a moment quickly became more understandable.  
  
''-do you hear yourself? This is a suicide mission! No, just no. You were never the voice of reason, but neither was I, and here I'm saying you are mad. James, think about Lily!''  
  
Harry's eyes opener wide, his breath all shaking.  
  
Sirius was arguing with the man Harry had seen before. He had messy, dark hair, glasses, and wand in his hand. Harry had seen him only in photographs. But he sure knew who that was.  
  
''It's alright, Padfoot. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. And Lily, by the way, she is on her way, too.''  
  
Harry stumbled closer. Suddenly, he noticed that it was much more quiet and the spells were no longer flying around, Bellatrix had gone somewhere and so were Ron and Hermione. There were only Harry, Malfoy, still lying tied now by the bushes, Sirius and Harry's Dad.  
  
Harry didn't understand anything what was going on.  
  
''Are you mad, James? Are you truly mad?!'' Sirius's raspy voice could be clearly heard in disbelief. ''Lily here, for Merlin's sake! Do you think about them, James, do you _think about them?_ ''  
  
Some jinx from nowhere hit Harry and he once again fell backwards, this time on grass.  
  
He rolled over and stumbled to his feet again, just to duck again.  
  
''Harry, get out of the way. Harry! _Expelliarmus!''  
_  
It was Hermione yelling, spells flying around and over Harry's head, and because of pure survival instinct the boy rolled away before any of the spells could hit him. Couple of near magical blasts happened behind Harry, and, when Harry stood up he saw Hermione and Ron fighting Bellatrix and also sending counter-jinxes when she tried to hit Harry. His friends moved closer to him to create a shield.  
  
''Harry.''  
  
Harry looked back. It was Sirius.  
  
''Sirius, what is going on? Why is everything so… weird, I…''  
  
''We have to get you out. The battle has gone on for too long. We will take over Bellatrix so you could run''  
  
Harry felt sick.  
  
''Who will take over? If I get Ron and Hermione to come with me, it's just you then, Sirius, and you need to come with us! Please, Sirius! I don't want to leave you again! Please!''  
  
''My dear boy, Harry! Don't you worry about me! I will come. Have you forgotten the Aurors, the apparition? It's gonna work. And then I will come to you. But I cannot do it right now. We have to get you to safety.''  
  
''Sirius, wait!''  
  
The man in glasses with the messy brown hair was running towards them.  
  
Harry stood petrified, his heart pumping but words being frozen, body unable to move. It really was his father, in flesh and bone, standing in front of him.  
  
''You want to talk to your boy?'' Sirius asked his friend.  
  
''Of course I do. Would you… please?'' James looked at Sirius; he nodded understanding and stepped away, turning to Bellatrix.  
  
Harry continued to stand hands shaking and questioning reality and dreams, because they sure right now felt as merged together and nothing felt real while everything in some way did.  
  
''Harry.''  
  
From nowhere, Harry felt his cheeks go warm in the rain. His face still was frozen in shock, but eyes apparently had filled with tears. He hadn't even noticed that before.  
  
''Harry, you must listen to me now. It is essential for you to run. Just run to the portkey and get away. Do you understand me?''  
  
Harry looked for moment at his father, then shook his head. James sighed and smiled.  
  
''We worked hard on this. The whole team: the Ministry, Hogwarts, Order, countless of other people. We have come together to get you out. We all are competent to do this, we all are strong,'' he paused. ''And so are you. You, the most important player in this game. You are so strong, so brave. You are everything a parent can wish for.''  
  
''And you have made all of us so, so proud.''  
  
Harry turned his head towards Lily, her hair being of fire and eyes of the sky, coming up from behind of James. Her face was filled with peace and by even looking at it Harry felt like everything was going to be okay.  
  
''Go, my love. Go, and leave the battle for us. We will fight for you. Always.''  
  
Harry watched his parents stand in front of him, unable to draw his eyes from such sight and afraid to blink, afraid to get dizzy, please, just a bit longer, oh, just a tiny bit longer, that was all Harry wished for, that was all he needed, his only wish he ever dared to make, and he knew, Harry had always know that it was still too much to ask. He wasn't allowed to make wishes, he, the most important player in the game, lived from what the rules brought upon him, and wishful thinking to him was just a funny pastime, the hypothesis and ''what ifs'' of life he had and the life he dreamt about on the few restful nights were something he could put in a box and put on a shelf besides chess and other games.  
  
But he had to blink, because rain was hurting his eyes, so he did, and his parents were still there smiling and urging him to run, to save himself, and Harry allowed himself to look to the left and there they were, Ron and Hermione, who had stopped fighting and now were looking at Harry, also smiling. He stepped closer to his friends and wanted to ask them to run away with him, but then Sirius also stepped into Harry's vision, smiling, but having a certain look on his face that told Harry once again to leave everything and everyone behind.  
  
''I can't. I just can't…'' Harry mumbled, swallowing the knot he had in the throat. Then, he turned to Ron and Hermione.  
  
''At least you come with me. Please. Let's just get to the portkey. And all will be fine, I promise!''  
  
The faces and bodies of the people in front of him twisted and turned, and Harry fell to his knees, feeling sick again. Suddenly, all of them were right above him, looking down to Harry as he tried to stand up unsuccessfully.  
  
''Time has run out, Harry,'' Sirius said. Harry tried to look up while bracing against his good hand. They were all still smiling and giving Harry an expression of encouragement and love, but something was weird, such a strange feeling was in the air and Harry did everything to ignore it, just to preserve the moment, the sight, his parents, Ron, Hermione, and Sirius together, happy, the hypothesis crumbling and the ''what ifs'' coming together, merging, creating something beautiful that made Harry feel not like the main player, but the creator of the game. You either play by the rules or you become irrelevant and die, but none of that applies if you have the pen to draw the perfection, to draw a game that won't ever be put in a shelf of Sunday games, and Harry had this right in front of him, at the reach of his hand. The wish had come true.  
  
Is this what God felt every day?  
  
''Harry.'' Sirius said.  
  
''Harry,'' Ron and Hermione spoke.  
  
''Harry,'' James repeated.  
  
Lily just smiled.  
  
Then, everything blurred in black and dirt, the sight that was just there was no longer. Harry fell to his stomach, eyes shut.  
  
''Harry.''  
  
He looked up, and there he was all alone looking down to Harry with his red snake eyes the way a cat looks at mouse at its last breath.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a ''daddy'' my fic now, can it be now considered as smut?


	4. Death

_  
Come on, come on  
You think you drive me crazy  
Come on, come on  
You and whose army?  
You and your cronies  
Come on, come on  
Holy Roman empire  
Come on if you think  
Come on if you think  
You can take us on  
You can take us on  
  
You and whose army?  
You and your cronies  
  
You forget so easily  
We ride tonight  
We ride tonight  
Ghost horses  
Ghost horses  
We ride tonight  
We ride tonight  
Ghost horses  
Ghost horses  
Ghost horses  
_

  
\-----  


  
''Hello, Tom.''  
  
Harry spoke through clenched jaw, at the same time attempting to suppress the desperation, anger and sense of defeat rumbling in his stomach, but his eyes were burning like an acid into the dark wizard.  
  
''We meet, at last. Took you long enough.''  
  
He tried to stand up, to end him being at the level of Voldemort's feet plus the back of his neck was starting to hurt quite a lot, but only his mind seemed to be able to do so while his body refused to do anything besides lying on the wet grass. Harry tried to push at least his torso up, but his hand was shaking so badly he ended up sliding back on the ground.  
  
''Harry Potter, this is the day you finally die,'' Voldemort smoothly stated, slowly twirling his wand between his long, pale fingers and looking around like appreciating the stage where the final act will be delivered. ''I can truly say, the events I expected to lead to this moment happened exactly the way I intended. ''  
  
He looked down to Harry again.  
  
''Say, Potter, do you fear the breath you feel at the back of your head? Do you fear the non-appeable future, tied to my fingers right at the moment you were born? Harry Potter, answer me, do you fear death?''  
  
Harry noticed one thing, and he didn't know what to draw out of it – he was too tired, too confused and too done with everything to play along with Voldemort's metaphors and drama. It might be a good thing, not to stress himself out because of the factor that his archenemy was about to kill him, or not – maybe this moment wasn't the one where Harry should embrace apathy. But speaking felt like such an extra and taking so much of the energy that decided to Harry stay silent, his mind only working on one thing – figuring out how to get out of this. The odds seemed grim.  
  
Voldemort looked at him for a moment longer, then sneered, and suddenly pivoted, his scarecrow-like robes fluttering and hitting Harry in face.  
  
''Get up.''  
  
Voldemort paced away a bit, then turned again quickly towards Harry.  
''I said get up!''  
  
He flicked his wand, and Harry felt being pulled up by a strong, harsh force. Automatically his legs straightened out and went under him, but Voldemort decided to finish the spell earlier than Harry was able to correct himself in a stance, so as his legs hit the ground his knees buckled. However, Harry managed to not collapse.  
  
Everything around the pair was the same, they still were in the Malfoy garden, but it seemed somehow to be more extended than Harry remembered, and the dark bushes of the surrounding hedge seemed higher and unfriendly. At the far end of the garden, Harry noticed a gap in the hedge, supposedly leading in the forest, but something about the opening left an unsettling feeling.  
  
Voldemort smiled, nostrils flaring.  
  
''Shall we take a walk?  
  
He waved his wand arm like he was welcoming a pleasant guest in his home, except nothing of this was even remotely pleasant and Voldemort was asking Harry to follow towards the forest. Just like before he didn't let Voldemort control his actions, Harry also decided now not to do anything, and just stood. He sure knew this won't end well for him, but, honestly, how else this could go?  
  
The smile on Voldemort's face transformed into disgust.  
  
_''Imperio.''  
_  
Harry felt his body being infested with something that wasn't his, and involuntary he stepped forwards. One step, then another, and another.  
  
''Here you go, although, I do not appreciate you disobeying, because it's just going to be more trouble for me and, of course, you.''  
  
Harry knew well that he was capable of resisting the curse, but once again in a small limit of time he was forced to realize how powerless he is. He shouldn't be surprise about this, he thought to himself, because it has been prison, starvation, torture – both mental and physical,- and yet he couldn't feel but disappointed at himself. All these years of him slowly getting ready to meet his destiny, and he was weaker than when he was fourteen.  
  
So he followed Voldemort slow and steady, and they both walked towards the hedge.  
  
''Tell me, how was your last adventure? The grand escape?'' Voldemort hissed. ''A lot of people worked on this, we even fixed your glasses to not let you off with all blurry vision. And a nice… spell… with a help from a potion that induces specific hallucinations of your dearest wishes of that moment – Severus so kindly provided it to me some time ago.''  
  
Harry kept quiet, partially because he simply couldn't speak, and certainly Voldemort hadn't intended to even let Harry speak, but other than that he was too busy grinding his teeth in growing anger. So, it wasn't just water in the bowl, but even if he could go back he would do the same – he simply was too thirsty. And, secondly, of course it was Snape who, again, managed to screw with Harry's life when not even present.  
  
''Over time I have come to a realization that it is much more pleasant to watch your victim go through pain and suffering first before I put an end to its life. One thing is a muggle or other inconvenient assortment – they don't quite deserve such special treatment before death. But people like you, Harry, you see, it gives the full satisfaction. To see the whole variety of your pathetic scope of emotions tearing you apart; it is easy to do a physical harm, but when I gave you the sense of hope, bittersweet sentiment, yes, even love… Not many things make me feel like when I wave my hand and take all that away.''  
  
Not many things make you feel anything at all, Harry sneered internally. But of course, Harry knew. At first, yes, he really thought his friends had come, because it all felt so real and Harry truly reasoned with himself that people will come to rescue, and this was the way they could do it.  
  
He also believed that Sirius was alive. That he felt ashamed of, because he apparently wished to undo the past so badly he let it fog his better part of mind. But then, his father… And his mother…  
  
By then, Harry definitely knew it wasn't real, but he has become quite a successful liar not just to others, but mainly to himself, and all it took was for him was to trick and accept the scenario as reality, because that gave him such freedom like in a dream where you know you are dreaming, and that makes you enjoy everything happening in some other level, like watching a movie, knowing all things are already preset to happen in a certain way. So Harry went by the illusion, he forced himself to make it real, and he immersed into it like nothing else was happening and nothing else mattered.  
  
So, Harry thought, Voldemort was wrong. He felt more happiness out of the illusion than pain of it disappearing simply because he was much more used to the latter. Matters regarding torture didn't excite Harry anymore, not quite the way it used to, at least. Overall, he was actually glad that Voldemort thought giving Harry the world, then taking it back and smashing into bits would damage him, because it just showed how less he knew about Harry.  
  
Both of them finally reached the opening in the hedge, and the forest, veiled in the brisk after-rain cover, settling down for the creeping night, looked very much like the Forbidden Forest. Having this resemblance and knowing what kind of creatures can live in such place, Harry felt especially uneasy, standing at the foot of it and having no idea what will Voldemort do next to him. At least, rain had gradually stopped, and everything felt like frozen in time, being in a standstill for a final of some sort.  
  
''Now, Potter, starts your last part of your road to Golgatha.''  
  
Using muggle culture metaphors wasn't something that could be assigned to Voldemort, so at first, Harry was confused by Voldemort's choice of words, but then Voldemort looked at Harry with such an expression he knew how funny Voldemort thought this was, mocking muggles and his opponent simultaneously.  
  
''You'll see what I've got for you prepared. Soon enough, you will experience the culmination. Even you thought the night you were brought was filled with celebration, you will get your mind changed quite fast.''  
  
With that, they entered the woods, and, for the first time with such density, Harry started to feel the state of panic.  
  
He knew that he should be able to break the curse and untangle himself from Voldemort's invisible ties, but what next? He really had no clue what to expect, and therefore there was no use to waste his brain power into thinking about dozens of possible scenarios and how to escape from them. Especially since he had no wand.  
  
The forest quickly closed around them. Harry wasn't able to look behind them, but the felt how the trees almost breathe behind him, making him now in full seriousness consider whether Hogwart's Forbidden Forest wasn't only of the kind.  
  
But as they went further in, Harry noticed tiny little lights floating a feet above the surface At first, they appeared only once in a while, but then, as time went on and it got darker, the fireflies started to dance more enthusiastically. They lit up, bounced around in the air, and then disappeared again, and Harry couldn't notice whether the same one rose up again in light. After some time more, they got even more, and now the whole forest seemed to be lit with tiny stars. Harry felt a weird emotion creeping up, but he quickly forced it down back – now really wasn't the time to get soft and sentimental. Instead, he wondered for a moment whether Voldemort felt anything when he saw something this beautiful, but quickly ended that thought, quite sure already to know the answer.  
  
They continued the weird procession in silence, Voldemort sliding over the wet moss, his long, bare, freakish feet squishing it, and Harry, slumping in almost natural position a bit behind the dark wizard. As Harry noticed that tonight was the full moon, which started to peek from behind of the clouds as the night arrived fast, the trees suddenly got smaller, tinier, and Harry saw that they were about to reach some sort of glade. Soon, the tiny little glowers also disappeared like some sort of invisible force field was guarding the edge of the opening.  
  
As they entered it, Harry understood that the fireflies were most probably the last nice thing he saw in his life.  
  
The whole field was about as big as Quidditch pitch, but instead of having a nice forest surface and a nature of oasis, it looked like a violent storm had gone over it. The glade was filled with many tree stumps, and most of them looked like someone had taken the tree and just bent it until it broke – some of the stumps ended a feet above the ground, others were higher than Harry. Many dead trees were lying there as well, their roots torn out of the soil or just they had died in some other kind of death. The moss was all over with smaller or bigger branches and old, half rotten leaves.  
  
And then, in the middle of the clearing, there were Death Eaters – but only some of them, and Harry briefly wondered where the rest of the clique was. They were standing in a half circle, facing the newcomers, and such scene made Harry suddenly realize the stinging cold resemblance of the place where the events took place after he and Cedric grabbed the Triwizard Cup. The trees, or more like the remains of them, in the dusk very much reminded Harry of tombstones, and the Death Eaters standing there like they were ready for some sort of ceremony sent shivers down his spine as the memories came back vivid.  
  
''Ah, and here we are. Harry, would you come here, in the middle?''  
  
Harry wanted to sneer or make a comment about how he had no other choice than to follow what Voldemort had intended, but he, of course, couldn't.  
  
In front of the Death Eaters was another stump, about Hargid's height. Harry suddenly felt the curse being lift off of him, but before he could do anything on his free will, he flew backwards and hit the big stump with his back. All air got sucked out of his lungs and he grunted in pain. He was now bound to the dead tree completely.  
  
Voldemort slid around.  
  
''I have gathered you here today because this is a special event. I… wanted to share this with you. With every one of you, my loyal servants.  
  
''Yes, I have noticed, and I'm sure you are wondering as well – we aren't quite in full number, but rest assured that others will come as they have been busy under orders of mine. After all, I do not intend this evening to be lived in haste and end too soon. That would certainly be, I may say, and dissatisfying conclusion.''  
  
The Death Eaters were standing still, masks over their faces, so their expression could not be seen, but Harry was sure none of them dared to look directly at their master.  
  
''Wormtail!''  
  
From the backs of the Death Eaters materialized the same pathetic, rat-like man Harry knew and hated.  
  
''Yes, master?'' he bowed.  
  
''Give me your wand, Wormtail.''  
  
''Yes, master, of course!'' he squeaked, bowing again while drawing out the wand out of his pocket. Voldemort took it and a blink later he acted like there was no one standing in front of him. Wormtail just stepped back, his head still low and eyes looking somewhere close to his master's feet.  
  
Voldemort threw the wand at the direction where Harry was being glued to a dead tree.  
  
''Pick it up,'' he flicked his own wand and Harry felt falling down on his knees as the spell was lifted off. ''Pick it up and then we shall duel. The last time didn't went that smooth, I must confess, but now there are no distractions and no emergency exits to spoil the celebration.''  
  
Harry crawled to the wand and grabbed it, then continued with a decent attempt of getting properly on his feet. Seconds later, he stood, the wand in his hand pointed towards the snake man, the Death Eaters creating sort of black wall in the background.  
  
''Now, let's bow, all right? We already went through proper dueling manners couple of years ago, so I hope this time you'll do better.''  
  
Voldemort bowed; then, as he saw that Harry didn't intent to move a muscle, he grimaced.  
  
''I said – bow!'' and Harry felt himself being forced again to do something he didn't want to. The memories of the graveyard, the rebirth of the one every witch and wizard feared so much they avoided his name being spoken, continued to haunt Harry, and he was sure Voldemort felt so disappointed about that night that he probably intended to recreate it, polish to the perfection of his fantasy.  
  
''Ah, I see you don't learn after all, even after I warned you that you disobeying will just bring you trouble.''  
  
Voldemort flicked his wand again, and Harry flew backwards, this time avoiding the tree stumps, but quite fortunately falling on the soft moss. Still his wand gripped, he sent a spell himself back. The duel had begun.  
  
_''Expelliarmus! Stupify!''  
_  
Harry shouted spells and finally felt sort of in his element; despite the fatigue and pain he felt he fought through it all and was able to bring himself to concentrate and be agile in order to attack and avoid the jinxes. The Death Eaters had scattered as soon as the duel begun not wanting to get hit, and now they were spectating further away.  
  
Voldemort however started to look annoyed. Some of the jinxes he threw towards Harry were accompanied with a grunt of anger and his hand movements got even more and more erratic and forceful. Harry on the other had continued to thread the old thought of what to do now and how to get out of this situation. He did have a wand now, but it wasn't like he could fight off the group of dark wizards by himself. And now Voldemort growing impatient… Harry concentrated the anger and desperation cultivated over the days in his stomach and decided to save himself whatever it took.  
  
_''Cruc-''  
_  
He was thrown backwards once again, this time with huge boost, his curse unfinished. However, he didn't hit the ground, but instead felt himself rushing through the air like he was in a warp, everything in a blur, and certainly overall unpleasant experience. He landed deep in the forest, and before he could apprehend what was going on, a palm clasped tight over his mouth and he was being manhandled, back roughly pressed against another body for a second, and then – against a tree. Some fingers dug into his shoulder. Eyes wide and sight dulled with shock, it took moments for Harry to realize the person he was currently staring at was no other than Snape.  
  
''Stay quiet, Potter,'' he hissed, voice low. Noticeably not wanting to touch Harry's bare skin any longer, Snape withdrew his hand from his mouth, but the one on Harry's shoulder still painfully held the boy in place.  
  
''Sir, what-''  
  
''I said quiet!'' the professor hissed again and gave extra painful nudge to the shoulder. ''I have come to rescue you, but it will be only possible if you listen to me, at least this one time. Will you be able to manage that?''  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
''We have only moments to hide as they are most definitely searching for us,'' Harry looked past Snape's shoulder and he could see that they actually weren't that far from the glade, just enough for the trees to cover them, but not enough for Voldemort not to hear them. ''Now, we clearly cannot apparate from here because anti-apparation spell has been put on this forest and Malfoy mansion. And we cannot outrun them.''  
  
''But why? We just did the… flying thing, why not do it again? Sir?''  
  
''If I could, I would, but certainly you must understand that I am not able to travel long distances with you. That's why we are going to wait.''  
  
''What? Wait? I thought-''  
  
Sharp fingers pressed his shoulder again and Harry winced in pain.  
  
''Quiet, Potter! Don't interrupt me anymore. I am risking my life right now to save your sorry soul, so don't you disrespect me now.  
  
''I have sent a signal to the Order and other allies to come and create a diversion,'' Harry swallowed, the name bringing back his recent memories. ''I, however, cannot say how long it might take for them to get ready and come here, but until that we must hide and, if needed, fight. And whatever happens, we cannot let the Dark Lord see us.''  
  
With that, Snape let go of Harry and pulled out of his robes something Harry missed very much – the Invisibility cloak.  
  
''Put this on. One man less to see.''  
  
Harry hesitated for a second and caught himself thinking for the first time ever to ask Snape come under the cloak with him.  
  
''Don't be a pathetic fool, I can conceal and protect myself well enough without such cheap tricks,'' as he had just read Harry's mind, he hissed, annoyed. ''Now, put it on! And stay right beside me!''  
  
Harry got under the cloak and now felt more safe to look around him. Snape was definitely not lying about him being unable to bring both of them on the weird special flight Death Eaters use far enough, because, while he couldn't see more than that the opening was close, he could definitely hear yells and cries, over everything Voldemort damning him and demanding Harry to show himself because there is no way he could get away from him.  
  
And, suddenly, Harry could hear Voldemort's voice clear as day, as if he was just beside him.  
  
''Harry Potter! Your rudeness keeps making me quite furious,'' the voice came like a flood between the trees and it felt like it was directed precisely towards Harry, like Voldemort knew where he was hiding. ''Your arrogance, it seems, will be the last thing you cultivate in yourself before I put an end to your heartbeat, before I stop the breath from entering your lungs, before I manage to break the flow of your thoughts. And you are such a fool, Potter, you, the famous Boy Who Lived, certainly just asked to bring the trouble upon yourself. The evening must go on, and I have no intention to spend the time searching for you in the woods, especially since the next part I've been wanting to introduce you to will make you come out by yourself.''  
  
There was a pause, and Harry, frozen and all senses turned up to maximum, listened and tried to distinguish the shadows from people somewhere in front of him.  
  
''Come, my servants! The time has come to continue the celebration! Come, unite. Rejoice!''  
  
Voldemort cried, and that moment many other black smoke-like shadows landed in the dead field. The rest of the missing Death Eaters had finally come.  
  
''Ah, here we are,'' his voice felt like it kept coming closer. ''Potter, you see, I am a man of many strengths and not so many weaknesses. In fact, I can't really put a finger on a single setback, simply because I eliminate any that cross my path and hinder me from what I have put my mind to.  
  
''You, on the other hand, are fool enough to throw your weaknesses all around, like in the last fight we had back in the Ministry. Only you strangely called it a strength – love and friendship… Now, I also have noticed that your lack of manners have to be apparently taught by me, since your dear mother couldn't be there with you in your life to teach them herself – a shame, really. It seems like I also have to teach the difference between strength and weakness, in hopes that you won't be that neglectful of such teachings. So, I have brought some people to help us, Harry. Bella, release her!''  
  
Harry's heart as racing, and then there was a red light and a terror filled scream. Harry felt his himself dying inside because sure enough, that was Hermione, being torn apart under the Cruciatus curse. After several moments of screams, a silence settled, and Harry felt a bitter relief.  
  
''Did you hear that well enough? Well… I have four more of your so-called strengths to send you the message.''  
  
Harry jerked forwards, trying to get to see his friends and hopefully to shed some blood, but a strong arm seized him and another covered his mouth again, back pressed against the same body it was minutes ago.  
  
''Don't you dare moving closer, you moronic imbecile,'' Snape hissed behind him against his ear, voice filled with raw anger and acid. Despite Harry being invisible, he seemed to have a precise sense of where Harry was standing like he could easily see through the magic of the Invisibility cloak. This time, Harry was tightly locked in Snape's arms, but the professor definitely didn't care that he was now continuously hurting his student.  
  
However, Harry had all he needed – a wand and a cloak, and help was coming whether Snape was babysitting him or not. Harry therefore thanked that his professor couldn't see his small movements under the cloak, he positioned his arm and wand carefully so that it pointed in the correct direction, and, for once being sorry for what he was about to do to Snape, he whispered: _''Stupify.''  
_  
The hands of the unconscious professor released Harry, and thankfully he was quick enough to lessen the sound of the fall. He looked at Snape's face, oddly relaxed, and Harry decided to cover him with his cloak. Once that was done and Harry shortly amused himself with the thought that if he somehow miraculously escapes Voldemort and gets back to Hogwarts, it's gonna be Snape who will kill him.  
  
Quickly but with caution Harry moved closer to the edge of the forest, carefully hiding behind the trees and listening to whatever was happening. He had a plan – a crap one, but it still was a plan, and it was the best he could do in the situation where his friends' lives where on the stakes. As soon as he got close enough to distinguish the shadows and see the pale skin of Voldemort glowing in the dark, Harry attacked.  
  
The spell hit someone, but unfortunately not Voldemort – a Death Eater fell and others jumped in surprise, just to look in the forest to seek the source of the jinx a second later. But Harry wasn't stupid and he ran away over the wet moss patches, avoiding stepping on the fallen branches to minimize the noise. He stopped when he felt considerably safe and looked at what was happening back.  
  
Spells were flying and people were screaming in anger, however, Voldemort seemed to have an absolute control of the situation.  
  
''He may run, Carrow, let him, he isn't going anywhere far.''  
  
Harry stopped and considered his next move. He certainly didn't have enough strength to continue running, but he felt a fair advantage now, especially knowing that the Order was on its way. All he had to do was keep the wizards busy and Voldemort consider only Harry, not Harry's friends.  
  
The next move he came up with was dangerous, but it would definitely work as a great attention diversion. In his mind he apologized to his friends for doing this to some extent to them, and he pointed his wand to the biggest bunch of branches and stumps in the glade, near enough Voldemort.  
  
_''Incendio.''  
_  
Flames burst out of his wand with a huge intensity and everything that got in their way caught fire and started burning, sparks erratically flying up in the night sky. A wide line of fire enclosed the Death Eaters from the right side, but it spread out without any control and was on its way to create a circle around them. The group started to fight the fire, some of them quite successfully stopping it from spreading, but other than that it didn't seem to be possible to end it that easy.  
  
Harry felt a slight triumph – his friends won't be tortured or killed if Harry couldn't experience that, so they were most definitely scared to hell, but at least more or less safe, as much as one can be safe being together in a circle with bunch of dark wizards. He watched the flames grow, leaving other places black, turned in coil. He didn't notice someone was behind him until the very last moment, but it still was too late.  
  
He was grabbed and then dragged by some kind of beast out of the forest and right back to the fire circle. The carrier jumped with a huge leap over the flames and threw Harry mercilessly on the same ground he had dueled on. Grasping his wand and jumping on his feet, Harry looked in shock what was going on.  
  
''Greyback! What a pleasant surprise, truly!'' Voldemort spoke. The figure, which now Harry recognized as a werewolf, flashed its teeth. A howl came from somewhere, and the beast was gone like it never came in the first place.  
  
The Death Eaters had fought the fire effectively and it now spread away from the circle, eating its way further in the glade, leaving a huge trail of black stumps and grass, and smoke was coming from all over the place.  
  
A cold and unkind peace settled now that the fire had gone away, and a sense of utter defeat finally prevailed the adrenaline Harry felt for the last couple of minutes. He cursed himself, because he indeed was an imbecile and a fool, and just moments ago he felt like he had a control over everything just to make stupid mistakes that lead him back at the beginning.  
  
He looked around. The Death Eaters had rejoined in the half circle, and five of them were holding their wands and had put their hands on some of Harry's closest friends – there was Hermione, looking tired, but anger flashing all over her face, then there was Ron, eyes wide in fear, but nose crumpled in disgust and determination; Ginny, over whose mouth the Death Eater had put his hand, and Luna and Neville. All of them had some kind of injury on their face, a slit lip or a bloody nose, and, as the crazy drive retreated even more away from Harry, rush of fear and all the other bad emotions he tried to ignore before came uninvited like a tsunami.  
  
''Harry, Harry…'' Voldemort softly spoke. ''You keep bringing me really unpleasant surprises, or, should I say, complications. Trying to run away like that, with that traitor Severus who signed his own death certificate the moment he did that, by the way, and then all this fire and sneaking in the woods… It makes me think you still have an illusion that you can change the end of this night.  
  
''You seem to have an obsession of avoiding the certain destiny I have already engraved for you, engraved the moment I came to kill you mother and father, and, of course, you. You seem to think that there is going to be a clever exit out of this situation, like you are used to before in our previous meetings. But you are severely mistaken. You see, I have worked hard to create this ceremony, and I really dislike when my attempts don't bring me to the grand goal, because it makes me quite annoyed.  
  
''But now that I have your weaknesses here joining our evening, I can't bring myself to sulk upon failures and your pathetic little escapes, provided mostly by Dumbledore or some other convenience. This night, I want to continue to celebrate.''  
  
A pause, which Voldemort seemed to enjoy immensely for some reason.  
  
''Yet, Harry, I feel like I have to give you a proper warning to reduce your wish to try to escape again. _Avada Kedavra!''  
_  
Green flash hit Luna in chest and the Death Eater holding her let her fall to the ground with a thump.  
  
''No! No!'' Harry screamed and collapsed on his knees, trying to craw closer to her body. Hermione was screaming as well while Neville cried, and the rest of them were shouting in pain of loss whatever came into their mouths. Ginny apparently had somehow gotten the Death Eater release her mouth and she was crying as well.  
  
The crawl was excruciatingly slow, but Harry was determined to get to Luna despite everything. Voldemort, however, seemed to have other plans.  
  
"Where do you think you are going, Harry, you think I'm done playing with your supposed strengths? _Crucio!''  
_  
The curse hit Harry unexpectedly. He cried a rasp scream and collapsed, but, before he could start trashing around the place, the curse vanished and he drew a shaky breath in the sudden relief. Then, just as he wanted to look up what was going on, he got hit with Crucio again. And again, the curse was lifted off after only couple of seconds.  
  
This continued for a while. Voldemort seemed to give Harry almost enough time to feel the relief of pain going away before he attacked again, and Harry started to think that this was probably just as bad as continuous Crucio. His body was all tense and torn one second and the all of sudden relaxed for a very short moment of time just to be tortured again, and Harry just let himself scream.  
  
Behind his own cries he could hear his friends shouting. Some of them got shut up quite fast, but other Death Eaters apparently didn't want to do the extra work outside their Lord's commands and just let the teenagers scream and beg for the torture to end, where their cries reached no one's ears.  
  
The cascade of Cruciatus curse ended and Harry curled up on his stomach, grinding his teeth. The mixture of anger and absolute tiredness together with Luna's death had nudged something very weird in Harry, but the following deprived him from investigating the feeling further.  
  
''Get up, boy,'' Harry felt the same spell forcing him in a vertical position and he was once again glued against the same stump he was before, only now he had his wand clutched in his hand, unable to use it.  
  
''Harry!'' Hermione cried and he looked at her, thankful the spell allowed all of his friends to be in his sight, and tried to give her an apologetic look.  
''It's gonna be okay, all right? Just wait, okay?'' Harry spoke, surprised he could speak; it seemed to be some other spell holding him against the tree than Imperio, because if that was the case, he could not even more his mouth without Voldemort's will.  
  
''Harry, mate, whatever they do to us, focus on the goal, Harry, don't you worry about us, Harr-'' the Death Eater holding him punched Ron and then silenced him with his palm.  
  
Voldemort disregarded any of that, focusing only on Harry.  
  
''You will watch now closely how I teach you of what is a strength and a weakness, and trust me when I say that I intend to make my lesson stay till the end of your life. _Avada Kedavra!''  
_  
Harry screamed his lungs out together with the rest of his friends when Neville got released lifeless just like Luna.  
  
''Strength, you say? Friendship, and love, they are only obstacles to what you can become, to your highest potential, the greatness which people will fear, but praise. You have sculpted yourself as likeable, little hero who will save everyone – a true Griffindor, of course – but I must teach you the most absolute truth you need to know – it is better to be feared, but strong, than liked, but weak.''  
  
''You're wrong!'' Harry screamed, voice cracking, but he didn't care. ''There is no greatness in pointing a wand to someone's chest and shouting the killing curse. There is no greatness in killing innocent children, more than half of your age. There is no greatness in creating a staged play just to capture your enemy and watch how he will react with death in front of his eyes and death breathing at the back of his neck. That's exactly what weak people do!''  
  
''You seem to be delusional, Harry, because it is you who is in this position of helplessness and fear, while I'm… I'm at the epitome of what a wizard can achieve. _Avada Kedavra!''  
_  
Harry just screamed this time, losing his voice already at the beginning and letting out just hoarse noises of absolute terror. The face, the beautiful face that was usually filled with witty smile and cute little freckles, in a matter of a blink got lifeless and her beautiful, fire-red hair fluttered in the air as she was let free to collapse.  
  
''No, no, no, no…'' Ron chanted, tears dripping, and his eyes were shut close as he probably thought that as long as they are like that, the sight he will see after he opens them is not there.  
  
Hermione was just crying, her strength being apparently reduced too much during the Cruciatus attack to allow her to express herself more loudly.  
  
Harry bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood, but he couldn't care less. The weird feeling he felt slowly stirring at the pit of his stomach before was starting to mutate into something unknown and savage.  
  
''This is what hinders you from achieving what awaited you for all these years. The friends you get, they try to guide you towards some greater good, towards the righteous path, which in reality is nothing else than a pathetic illusion, created by and for the people like Dumbledore – a fool who allowed himself freely to fall for such lies and who brought other with him down that road as well. Strength is setting your own rules, your own path, seeing past the fog other try to blind you with. Strength is being able to step over everything, the principles, the rules that are clearly established to stop greatness from forming, to dull the world and make it grey, make it continue in harmony which is based on letting pure bloods mate with muggles and integrating wizards to obey the rules of the muggles, and other signs of utter weaknesses.  
  
''I am saddened to see so few agree with me, but I'm determined to make them reconsider. By re-writing the rules I will give the opportunity to the people to finally open their eyes to what is and could be achieved, and to make them realize that all of that was all the time right at the tip of their fingers.''  
  
Harry snapped.  
  
''Shut up, shut up, you disgusting, inbred monster of a man!'' Harry shouted. ''You are the one who is delusional, you are the one who knows nothing about what life is, what are the values of it. You being so intolerable that no one, even your parents, didn't want to have any business with you, have made you play the victim role again and again and again. Poor Tom! No one loved him, no one wanted to play Hide and Seek with him, no one even cared when-''  
_  
''Avada Kedavra!''  
_  
Harry shut his eyes the second he saw Hermione's face going blank and never ever smiling, laughing, telling him he's written a crappy essay for Potions with most the facts about Hellebore being wrong. ''Oh, Harry… Just… Give that to me, I'll take care of it. Honestly, you and Ron are one of the kind. I already know you will come crying to me two days before the exams, and I can bet I will not help your sorry souls.'' Then Ron would say something like ''We'll see that, Hermione, actually never, because Deviation is not your strongest subject, you know…''  
  
But now Ron said nothing, he just wept, the strength leaving him at a steady pace, and Harry could understand him – he was not only tired of seeing his friends being killed one by one, but he was also certain he will not be the exception.  
  
''You talk like you know everything, Potter. And yet, your words are nothing. Your beliefs have no stakes here. The only thing that matters is that I'm here, wand in my hand. This is power. Nothing else is of importance.''  
  
There was a pause and all that could be heard were Ron's quiet crying, Harry's shaking breaths and the last of the fire in the far back of the glade. Then, Harry spoke.  
  
''When you came to the Ministry, Bellatrix had just killed Sirius. He was the closest thing I had to an actual family. In anger, I tried Cruciatus on her, failed, then you came, and Dumbledore, and then you possessed me, poisoned me like a Dementor from the inside making me feel like there was nothing worth left in the world. And I fought you, and I said that I had friendship and love, and happiness – my strengths, yeah.  
  
''I also said that you've never experienced neither of those things, and because of that, I felt sorry for you. I truly did,'' he paused.  
  
''But all I can say now is that I'm still very much and very vividly sorry for you. Sorry the way people feel when they look at a blind deer knowing it will die soon enough, like when they look at a newborn bird that has fallen out of his nest and will die soon enough, like when they look at a cripple dog knowing it won't have any quality life, will be put down and thus, will die soon enough.  
  
''You are the neglect every day the world produces, the waste of nature. You are broken in all parts a person could even be broken, and there is no magic in the world that could mend that. You standing here is a mixture of fake dark magic to lie to your servants and, most importantly, to yourself, of your greatness and maintain the fear in people, a reflection of it that makes shadows of nothing. You are misguided and lost, and forever unable to seek and feel friendship and love. And I will forever, till the moment I die, feel sorry for you.''  
  
He looked in Voldemort's eyes, his enemy's ugly face gone unreadable. Only after a long pause, the dark wizard slowly started to pull his mouth into a sneer full of mock.  
  
''I will take that as the eulogy of your own funeral. But, before we get to that, let's just get rid of the actual waste here. _Avada Kedavra!''_  
  
Harry watched with eyes full of mixture of emotions how his best friend locked eyes with Harry for the last time ever and then they turned off and became unfocused. Ron collapsed at the feet of the Death Eater.  
  
And then there were none.  
  
The beast in Harry had woken fully now. It stretched its legs, neck and wings and filled with his being every fiber of Harry.  
  
Only thing he felt now was rage.  
  
Harry fought the spell gluing him to the stump first with his mind, then – body. At first, it was just a finger, then another, and then, he could move his arm. And that was all it took. The combination of pure anger, hate and wish to kill Voldemort bloomed inside Harry and the words he needed to speak came into his mouth in an ease Harry could've never before imagined or understood. He pointed the wand towards the other wizard. This was the end.  
  
_''Avada Kedavra!''  
_  
Voldemort halted, back halfway turned to Harry, and then fell in the same non-ceremonial way others had collapsed today. The Death Eaters, before the silent spectators, grabbed their forearms in pain, some cried in disbelief, some showed no emotion, but all of them stepped back and either ran or teleported away. Bellatrix looked at the crime scene like her world had just shattered, then disappeared. Wormtail also had disappeared somewhere, probably in his rat suit. Harry, with the spell binding him no longer having its master, stood on his own feet and stepped closer to the body. He stopped two feet away.  
  
''He was wrong,'' he spoke calmly. ''Wrong not just about everything he said about the world, but also about himself. He said he has no weaknesses, because he kills and destroys everything that stands in his way, and he built up his perfect world by cleaning everything around him of things he found hindering.''  
  
Ron and Hermione were standing silent on the each side of Harry, looking down at Voldemort just like him.  
  
''He asked me if I could feel the breath of the death always at the back of my neck. He asked if I feared it and the fact that I will die. And I did. Because life is precious and because, I mean, in my situation, only a fool wouldn't, right?''  
  
Luna, Neville and Ginny joined the trio. They were also silent, faces pulled in serious expression, and were looking down at Voldemort.  
  
''I was afraid… But never in my life I have been so afraid of death as Tom.''  
  
As the sky very hesitantly started to color itself brighter for the sunrise, there he stood, surrounded by the ghosts, looking down, waiting for the Order to arrive - the rider of the four ghost horses.  


  
The End  



End file.
